


because you’re mine, i walk the line

by infernum



Series: there’s lessons you learn, bridges you burn [4]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Couch Sex, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Restraints, Soft Rio (Good Girls), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top, no beta we die like men, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infernum/pseuds/infernum
Summary: He shifts on his feet and glances at her sofa out the corner of his eye. The moment was so fleeting that she would have missed it if she had blinked.“Would you like to sit down? I have some no pulp orange juice in the fridge if—”“Elizabeth, I’m not fuckin’ sitting down. I want you to answer me.”“You haven’t asked a question so how can I answer anything?"





	because you’re mine, i walk the line

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo.... didn't want to leave anyone in suspense for too long. Also this is what I actually started with, before the whole bar sex fic. Guess I'm a psychic about Beth using Rio's gold gun, huh? But yeah the whole gun wielding was gonna be a part of this fic but also I thoroughly enjoy worrying people so I separated the two so y'all would have to wait a day. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> A shout out to @ApparentlyConfuddled for guessing basically exactly right about what I had already written. I only adjusted some sexy time bits because it didn't sound right or didn't make sense how limbs were positioned, and I kept forgetting which bloody shoulder Beth shot him in so. There's that.
> 
> For my next fic... idk? I feel like there should be some conversation about the fact she's now killed a man (mamaaaaaa, just killed a man, put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead) and she's acting nonplussed about the whole thing. Maybe she's in shock? Maybe she just doesn't give a fuck? Maybe Beth had the capacity to kill someone all along but societal norms (and the law, apparently) all add up to murder = bad? Or maybe there's compartmentalisation going on bc Turner has been gunning for her ever since Rio got out and he was threatening her attempts at keeping her kiddies safe? Who the hell knows! But anyways, enjoy the porn! And my poor attempt at humour near the beginning!!

Last night was a wake up call for her. Before that, before she held a gun and pulled a trigger that caused a man to lose his life, before she killed _him_ , Beth had thought it impossible for her to feel so little about what had occurred; instead she’s just feeling hungry, tired, and ready for some bourbon or wine (whatever is in her cupboards) at nearly ten in the morning. Luckily she has some bourbon stored away at the back of the corner cupboard that’s full of allergy tablets and spare mop heads that no one else ever bothers to look in, so her morning is looking better with each step she takes towards the glasses cupboard.

There’re no tumblers left—she’s been drinking enough at home, alone, that they’re all in the dishwasher but she had no time to empty it out last night—so she opts for the mug that Kenny made for her as a school art project two years ago. It’s ugly and, frankly, the worst thing any of her kids have ever made for her (except for a burnt breakfast with underdone eggs one Mother’s Day, but it was still sweet of them to try) but the mug will have to do. The handle is far too small to fit more than two of her fingers through but she’s not overly picky right now.

She settles in on the sofa, turning on the TV to some mindless morning show where the host has a bad pixie haircut and an overdone bleach job. Beth sinks in the cushions, tucks her feet underneath her and sips at her drink. She savours the burn down her throat and closes her eyes, ignoring the way the sun shines in brightly and the way her eyelids are orange and yellow and blinding behind closed eyes.

————

Beth wakes suddenly, body jerking and eyes snapping open. Her mind takes a moment to catch up that the TV is still on and it's some old action movie with explosions going off that woke her up. The loud noises scared her, startled her into a brief memory of last night before she pushed it back and stretched out, her muscles complaining about napping on the sofa.

She stands up, a little wobbly on her feet, and decides she needs some more drink after that scare. She drifts into the kitchen, still half asleep, when the hairs on the back of her neck jump to attention and goosebumps explode all over her skin.

Someone’s here. Someone’s behind her.

Slowly, Beth turns around, every muscle in her body tense and she barely holds back a gasp when she sees who it is.

How did he get in? How long has he been here? Why doesn't he look more angry? Where should she put her cup if she has to run? She’s certaintly not wasting her bourbon by dropping it on the floor.

“Some good bourbon that is,” he grits out. He’s staring at her with a dark look in his eyes. She can’t quite figure out if that’s good or bad just yet.

“You shot me.” Rio states, jaw clenched and arms hanging loosely at his sides.

She can feel her eyes rolling before setting her mug down on the counter as if this is a normal conversation about what ingredients to put in cupcakes for a school PTA meeting and someone has suggested pecans with coffee cupcakes. “In the _shoulder_ , and it’s barely a graze.” Pecans on coffee cupcakes is absurd anyway—what kind of monster ignores the fact that walnuts are a far better match taste and texture wise?

“Bullet’s a bullet, Elizabeth.”

“Really? I killed an F.B.I. agent, and this is what you’re concerned about?”

“I’m _concerned_ you still got my gun and you ain’t fussin’ about nothin'.” He sounds soft now, like he’s trying to put the pieces of her together, trying to understand why she’s been so adamant about not killing before last night and flinching at the first signs of violence, and suddenly she’s flippant about the fact she’s got the death of Agent Turner on her hands.

Honestly, she doesn’t quite understand it herself, so if he can work it out she’ll gladly take in his insights with no hesitation.

Rio shifts on his feet and glances at her sofa out the corner of his eye. The moment was so fleeting that she would have missed it if she had blinked.

“Would you like to sit down? I have some no pulp orange juice in the fridge if—”

“Elizabeth, I’m not fuckin’ sitting down. I want you to answer me.”

“You haven’t asked a question so how can I answer anything?”

Rio lets out an irritated huff and looks away from her for a few seconds. His hands tighten into fists and she tenses, her right leg shifting slightly behind her and she puts her weight into it, ready to run up the stairs and get his gun that she carelessly dropped into her nightstand drawer when she arrived home before jumping in the shower. She hadn’t washed anything on her body, only sunk down on the shower floor and stared at the tiles until the water ran cold and woke her from her trance. The gun would still have bullet’s in there... probably. Maybe. She isn’t too sure, but she can only assume Rio wouldn’t have just one bullet when he does the work he does. The work _they_ do.

“Fine. Twenty questions then." Oh, okay. He doesn't actually care about her shooting him then. She still isn't sure why he's here but, at the very least, she doesn't have to consider doing it again because he's here to kill her. "Where'd you put my gun?”

“It’s in the house. What did you do with his body?”

“Got my boys to deal with it. What did you tell the feds yesterday?”

“I told them that Turner thinks,” she pauses, “ _thought_ ,” past tense because he’s dead now, “I killed Boomer and that I didn’t understand why he was so obsessed with me. I also told them it was becoming borderline harassment and that I was happy to file charges against him for stalking.” Rio grins at that, all teeth and no hint of anything except joy at her response.

“Okay, ma. Were you gonna kill me before he turned up?” That makes her body jolt like she’s been electrocuted. Was she willing to go that far? Had some part of her subconscious known what she would do?

The simple answer is maybe, possibly, hopefully not, so instead she whispers, “I don’t know,” and it’s the truth—she really has no idea what she would have done. Even if Rio had threatened her like he’s done so many times before, she will never know how it would have ended if it hadn’t had been for Turner showing up when he did.

Rio’s purses his lips and his brows furrow together, eyes glossing over briefly and nodding his head with small jerky movements.

“That’s fair. Did you kill him for me or for you?”

 _Oh_. This is a doozy of a question. It’s technically her turn to ask a question, but it’s clicked in her head—

“Both,” she states, no hesitation or wavering in her voice, and Rio tilts his head to one side so she clarifies: “I did it for both of us.”

The air is still, stagnant, after her confession, and Rio is staring at her like he might eat her whole or tear her down to pieces. She doesn’t know which one is more likely or if he has something else in mind, or even if the questions are over and he’ll leave, but she has one more thing to say.

“I want there to be a both of us,” and just like in the bar, something inside Rio snaps and he takes three large strides towards her and takes her head between his hands, thumbs stroking at her her cheeks before lowering his mouth and pressing the full length of his body against hers.

The kiss is desperate and wild; there’s no rhythm or control to it, and of course this would be how their first kiss would go. They’ve never been in control of themselves around each other, so why should this be any different?

One of his hands has drifted down to her waist and is guiding her to the sofa, walking her backwards until the backs of her knees knock against the cushions and he spins around to sit down and drag her onto his lap. They’re both breathing heavily, taking in gasps of air as they devour each other, but she isn’t willing to stop to take a breath in case it’s all a dream or fantasy, or if it truly is real, then maybe it will break whatever hazy spell has come over them.

Rio has both hands on her hips now, grinding her down on his lap and she can feel how hard he is through his jeans already. He isn’t using his right arm as much as his left, the wound she inflicted on him hurting, but he’s not stopping working her on him and Beth doesn’t think she could stop even if she absolutely had to.

She’s grappling at his bomber jacket, shoving it off his shoulders too quickly and it causes him to hiss as she drags it across his injury, but before she can apologise or slow down, Rio is throwing his jacket across the room and popping open the buttons on her blouse, sending them flying everywhere around them. For once in her life she can’t bring herself to care. She’s got him beneath her, under her, and she won’t let anything distract her from getting fucked until she can’t feel her legs anymore.

Rio is tugging his shirt above his head, struggling with his shoulder, and gives up with it hanging off one arm and instead turns his attention to lifting her off his lap to pull down her pants, socks and underwear. He lays back against the length of the sofa and gives her a shit-eating grin, licking his lips and leering at her bare pussy that’s already damp just from their make-out session.

She’s climbing above him, limbs flailing  in her hurried movements before she manages to tuck her lower right leg under his left shoulder and carefully avoiding his right shoulder with her left leg, placing her foot on the floor to give her some balance. She lowers herself down on his face and moans as he licks at her, tensing his tongue so it’s wide and firm against her, paying extra attention to her entrance before swiping upwards towards her clit with the top of his tongue. Her hips jerk wildly for a second before his hands wrap around her waist, forcing her to keep still and she can’t move away from how fast he’s eating her out until her legs are trembling and she’s gripping onto the arm of the sofa with one hand clenched into a fist and offering her just a bit more balance. Her other hand is gripping his head, nails digging into his scalp and she can’t figure out if she’s trying to push him away from her sensitive pussy or if she’s pulling him tight against her so he never leaves down there again.

He’s moaning into her, the vibrations sending her mind half into oblivion, a white hot pleasure seeping through her body and meeting in the base of her spine and stomach, burning her from the inside out and _fuck_ , she can hardly breathe now he’s got two fingers inside her, curled up into the g-spot and not letting up. He’s sucking at her clit, tongue massaging it, his groans making her go wild, and he's slipping a third finger in when she suddenly comes all over his face and she folds in on herself, her hips still riding his face with everything she has.

Everything goes blank in her head and she swears she nearly passes out for a second or two. She can hear herself scream until he stops sucking at her clit but he continues fucking her with his fingers and her scream breaks into half choked whines. He’s still fucking her hard and fast with three fingers, his other hand holding her firm on his face—she can feel his hot breath fanning over her overheated pussy, sending her flying out of her body into an out-of-body experience—and _oh my God oh my God oh my fucking God_ she’s coming again already. She can feel how wet she is, hear the obscene squelching from his fingers still fucking her, and her body gives out and completely collapses over him. Her stomach is pressed against his face and all her muscles are twitching. She has a sheen of sweat coating her entire body and she’s still whining, still coming because even though he’s stopped fucking her so vigorously he’s still got his fingers inside her and they’re slowing down until she can finally think a  simple sentence again. 

She's still gasping for breath, starting to make her way into thinking in compound sentences, when Rio sits up and cradles her in his lap. She can feel him stroking her hair and pushing some strands off her face, his fingertips tracing her lips and he ducks his head to her neck leaving open mouthed, wet kisses up to her jaw.

"Crazy woman, wavin' a gun at my face and thinkin' you ain't nothin' to me," he murmurs, his voice rough and deep lips tracing the shell of her ear now. "'Course you'd think that. Y'don't know any better, don't know how much you mean to me."

His hands are pushing at her hips, making her rise on her knees a bit as he undoes his fly and button on his jeans and shuffles them down with his boxers to his knees before settling her back on his lap. His cock is nestled in the crook between her pelvis and thigh, precome leaking and dripping down his length. She can feel him kicking his lower legs out and hears his pants rustling and a thump as they hit the floor.

He adjusts himself so the head of his cock is pressed against her entrance, lets her go at her own pace, and she slowly settles back down on his lap as he sinks into her. She's still so sensitive and she clenches tight around him, making him jerk his hips up and with a sharp whine he throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and mouth wide open. He holds her still, fingers twitching as he squeezes her hips so hard she knows she'll have bruises. She hopes he embeds his fingerprints into her skin, engraved into it, so she can have him with her, always.

Beth sits forward as she undoes her bra and chucks it behind her somewhere, leans against his chest and rests her head on his uninjured shoulder, head tilted so her mouth is pressed against his neck and starts rocking back and forth, her hands stroking up and down the expanse of his muscles and sweaty back. They both gasp with each forward rock and release their breath each time she rock back. It starts out slow and steady, allowing her to ease into how sensitive she is after coming hard twice already. The evidence of that is her come all over his mouth and jaw, dripping down his throat and his chest with how hard she came.

Gradually Rio guides her hips to rock faster and harder, grinds her down with each forward rock, and he's whimpering out punchy little groans every so often and he won't stop looking at her like she's the sun or something corny like that. She can feel it building up inside her again, this time more gently like waves lapping at the beach, the tide coming in and washing over her until she can't hold it back anymore. This position has his pelvis rubbing against her clit and it's sending her higher and higher, and she's going to come again—no, wait, she's— _fuck_ , she's coming right now and she stops breathing, holds it in, before letting out a long, deep whine against his skin and her she slumps against Rio, panting and shuddering on top of him. She can feel her pussy quivering around his cock and how hard he is inside of her. He's pushing her off of him, positioning her so she's on her hands and knees, face pressed against the arm of the sofa. Her arms give way because she can barely herself together and Rio is taking a hold of her arms, holding them behind her back and he's wrapping something around her forearms (his t-shirt maybe?) and she can't move—she's so out of it, out of her head and her body, she doesn't bother arguing or pushing him away.

He's slipping back inside her and she can hear him murmuring _so good for me, a goddamn queen, so fuckin' beautiful_. She's so full and warm, feels safe and surrounded by him leaning over so his chest is pressed along the length of her back and rocks into her. His hands are running up and down her sides, caressing and embracing, hands warm on her hot, buzzing skin. It's like she's vibrating at a million miles an hour from deep inside her and she'll flutter right out of her body until she's floating somewhere between heaven and the earth.

He's thrusting faster now, desperate like when they kissed before; his hands are twitching while holding onto her waist and all she can hear is the slap of skin against skin, his gentle words of encouragement, their moans melding together so it's just one continuous white noise in her head.

He slips one hand under her and lifts her up so she's sitting on his lap, pulling her back until they're blending together into almost one person; she doesn't know where she ends and where he starts, can't compute that they're two separate people instead of two parts of a singular soul meeting at last. This feeling is euphoric, let nothing she's ever felt before—whatever this is, she never wants this to end.

Rio's left hands sneaks up her chest and neck until he's cupping her jaw and turns her head so he can kiss her. His tongue is mapping out her mouth and she's reveling in the attention he has surrounded her with. They're grinding together and she can feel him hard inside her, so deep inside, and he's wrapped all around her, encompassing her body until she thinks maybe they are one now, maybe that's why she was so drawn to him from the very beginning. This is what they were meant for: each other.

Her orgasm washes over her without warning, drowning her in pleasure and exhaustion. She feels him come inside her, feels his body tense for a moment before relaxing and sinking so he's laying back on the sofa and brings her with him. He barely makes a sound as he comes except for whispering her name into her mouth, his breath fanning across her face and she closes her eyes, basking in the afterglow.

Rio moves them so they're on their sides, Beth facing the back of the sofa and still pressed against him. He spoons her, wraps himself around her, and grabs the throw that's on the back of the sofa and rests it on the both of them before settling into the cushions. She feels him tuck his knees in behind hers and his face is buried into her sweaty hair. It's a tight squeeze and they're definitely going to be aching when they wake up, but with the way he's nuzzling into her and holding her so close, arms wrapped around her torso and she feels so safe and wanted. She'll take any and all aches and pains if it means he won't ever let her go. The aftermath of everything that's happened the last few weeks can wait a few more hours.

She swears she can feel him smile against her neck as she drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think!! Criticism is accepted but only if it's constructive. I accept any and all types of praise because I am a major slut for praise.


End file.
